Such a Lonely Day
by kimikohiei
Summary: France is feeling and down and things get worse before they get much, much better.


Such a Lonely Day

"That's the end of that then…"

"Aiyah…I'm hungry aru…"

"Come on Italia, let's go home…"

As another useless meeting came to an end, the various nations gathered their belongings and headed out the door. Francis sighed and organized his papers. With all the shouting that had gone on, he wasn't able to propose even one idea. He normally would have just yelled over them, but he had been too tired to try. Lately, all he ever seemed to feel was tired.

He watched the nations leave. Feliciano clung to Ludwig with such an excited expression. Francis felt his heart melt. The love between those two was so pure and obvious to everyone. He tightened his lips and shook his head. Their relationship was something to be envied.

It seemed that all of the people he worked with were in a relationship but him. Even the prude Japan had been spotted being all lovey-dovey with Greece. He knew about his closest friends and their love pursuits. Antonio chased after the young hot-headed Italian and Gilbert pursued the woman with the frying pan. They were too busy to keep him company now.

His thoughts brought him down even further, making it difficult to stand up straight. If anybody saw him looking so defeated, they would start asking questions and make things even worse. He swallowed and shoved the rest of his documents in his briefcase. He snapped it shut and rushed to the exit. If he stayed in that room any longer, he was going to break down.

He hurried down the empty hallway, trying not to seem frantic. He needed a smoke, a glass of wine, anything, to get his mind off of his situation. As he turned a corner to get to the elevator, he bit the bone of his index finger. Those thoughts kept slashing at his brain, cutting him open.

"I am alone"

"I am unloved"

"I am undesired"

"I am nothing"

He inhaled sharply and pressed the button for the elevator repeatedly. It seemed like an eternity before a soft ding emerged from behind the silver door. It slid open slowly and Francis charged towards it, not seeing that somebody was in it. He smashed into something hard and fell back onto his butt. The pain and humiliation were the last straw.

He jerked forward and squeezed his blue eyes shut as they stung with tears. He expected the thing he ran into to help him up or apologize or something but there was only silence. Francis gushed more tears, figuring that he was indeed worthless, and nobody even cared if he was hurt.

He hugged himself and sobbed. The person in the elevator was probably watching him, feeling awkward and disgusted. The great France was on the floor crying like a big baby. His position only drew out more painful tears.

Something kicked his shin and he looked up to see who he had run into. He blinked until he could see the angry face of Alfred, the United States of America. He looked soulless and cold behind his glasses, completely unlike his usual self. It seemed that only to Francis did he show such an unrestrained amount of displeasure. He wasn't worth the effort of lying.

"Get up," Alfred said through gritted teeth.

Francis panted, unable to breathe through his nose anymore. He couldn't understand what prompted the sudden outburst in cruelty, but another kick to his leg meant that the American wasn't kidding.

He stood and wiped his eyes. "Do you 'ave un problem?" he asked quietly.

"You bet your skinny ass I do," Alfred growled. He stomped towards Francis with such an intimidating air that the Frenchman backed away from him, into the wall. He was in no mood to fight, and the last thing he wanted was to get involved in a war.

Alfred slammed his fist against the wall and glared into Francis' eyes. "You're a disgusting faggot, d'you know that?" he said angrily. "You fucking queer."

"That is a common fact," Francis replied as solidly as he could. "Why are you telling me what I already know?"

Alfred scowled and grabbed the Frenchman's neck hard enough to make pressure build under his eyes and his head pound. Francis reached up to push the hand away but he was getting weaker without oxygen.

"You're a walking sin, you fucking filthy bitch."

"W-why…Such cruelty…" Francis gasped. More tears slipped out through his closed eyes and he concentrated on breathing. It was completely unlike the American to be cruel to anybody or anything. Francis had no idea how he provoked such passionate hatred.

The grip on his neck tightened a minute fraction as Alfred leaned in closer. He could feel his temple against his cheek as Alfred whispered, "Because you disgust me," in his ear. Alfred let go of his neck only to pull him forward by his expensive suit and smash their faces together. Francis choked on his own breath as the American pushed their lips together painfully. If it was a kiss, he couldn't understand why it was happening.

The loss of oxygen had made him dizzy and disoriented. He couldn't fight back as Alfred pulled him down the hall, back to the conference room. He didn't know whether he was going to be beaten up or raped or both. As he stumbled down the hallway, he realized he didn't care. He was going to get away. He was going to fight to get home and cry in peace.

Alfred turned him around and shoved him back onto the long oval table. Francis groaned in pain as he was bent back uncomfortably. He grabbed the sides of Alfred's head as it neared his neck and pushed back with all his strength. His arms trembled with all the force he put into it. And yet, somehow, he managed to keep his head in the crook of his neck.

"Stop! Arretez!" he cried out and tried to elbow the blond away. His hands were quickly seized and held above his head. The way his torso was stretched made it hard to breathe and he turned his head to gasp. "S'il vous plait…" he breathed in his native tongue.

"No."

He gasped as he felt Alfred kiss his neck. It was startling how gentle the touch was. Francis could only think that it was meant to catch him off guard so that he could get hurt later on. He refused to relax.

Alfred put his knee in between Francis' legs and pushed against his crotch. The thin material of his pants let him feel every movement of the American's knee. On his left thigh he could feel the heat of Alfred's own crotch. Under other circumstances, that would spring pleasant thoughts, but not now. All Francis could think of was how to get in a good kick.

The kisses moved to his jaw. They were still so soft and sweet, even as they settled on his tightly shut lips. Alfred didn't seem to care if he responded or not. He continued to kiss and lick at his mouth and grind against him as if he was just a doll. Francis felt his face grow hot and he tried to steady his breathing. What the American was doing just felt too good to be ignored.

"Kiss me…" Alfred whispered and looked into Francis' eyes. It wasn't a command, more like a request. Francis frowned and relaxed his lips. The blond leaned down and touched their lips together. Something clicked in Francis' head and he squeezed his eyes shut. The urge to cry had returned and he couldn't understand why.

Nothing made sense anymore.

"Release me, please," he whispered. Alfred did let go of his hands, but didn't back off of him. Francis licked his lips and reached up to return a kiss. He took in the slightly nauseating scent of burgers and wrapped his arms around his neck. If Alfred wanted to fuck him then he wasn't going to resist. He wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to get laid, especially since nobody else was interested in doing him.

Alfred slipped his hands under Francis and lifted him on to his feet. "Where do you want it? Floor? Table? Your pick."

"Just like that? What 'appened to your cruelty?"

"I just…didn't want you to say no I guess…"

"You wanted to…do this?"

"Well! I just…Idk…When I see somebody struggling I just wanna rescue them…"

"You call that rescuing?"

Alfred blushed and took off his jacket. Francis loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt.

"I…didn't want you to…say no…"

Francis put his hands on Alfred's cheeks and pulled him into a sweet kiss. The American had absolutely no tact or talent when it came to romance, but that just made him cute. He really was a child and (hohoho) Francis loved children….

"I would much rather make love at your home, than where we work," Francis said breathlessly.


End file.
